The Heart of the South
by frozenlemons
Summary: Rachel Berry was born in Virginia during the time of slavery and conflicts, but her dream is to live in New England. She has no ties left in Virginia, but as she is about to set off, she catches the angel face of a girl she had hoped to forget.
1. Sweet Babe

Sometimes when she closed her eyes she saw stars, like someone took a cookie cutter to her eyelids to let the light steam in. It was never dark when Rachel Barbra Berry closed her eyes. She had vivid flashes of her future, and an imagination that carried her far away from her small farm. The talk of New England she had heard over the years gave her something to build her dreams off of. The six-teen year had only been to New England once, but she had decided she would spend the rest of her life in the bustling cities. The South held no interest for Rachel, and she wanted out. She wanted away from the constant reminder that human beings were being exploited, she wanted away from backwards men who found violence comforting, she wanted away from her second-class citizen role as a woman, she wanted away from the plantation south.

Rachel was born in Virginia, in 1790, to an unknown woman, but what her adoptive father told her, she was able to piece together fragments of who her mother had a been: a brown-haired immigrant with fair skin and a gargled accent. He had found the woman in his barn as the sun set, her dress already soaked in blood. She had been a runaway – perhaps an indentured servant or house slave. But Hiram Berry was a kind man, and did not turn away the dying woman. Instead he helped the stranger give birth in his barn on a cold winter night, and after what seemed like hours a baby was brought into the world. The woman had died shortly after, and Hiram had been unable to find out her name. Instead he was left with a crying baby girl and a dead woman. The raising of Rachel had been complicated, because Hiram had never wed. Instead, the poor farmer had to invest in a maid that would care for and raise Rachel in her mother's absence. Hiram did not believe in owning slaves and a lot of land in order to have the same rights as other men, therefore the idea of owning someone was foreign to him. However, he found a maid that had recently lost her newborn, and would be able to take care of Rachel. She was lighter skinned African American, and this raised her value, but Hiram purchased the older woman and with it lost half of his farmland. The woman's name was Susan, and Rachel took a liking to her instantly.

Rachel had always had big dreams, and almost impossible goals. She was a swift horse rider by age six and knew how to spell every word, or so she liked to think. To Susan, Rachel was the daughter she never had the chance to meet, and the two formed a sort of kinship. Hiram had to constantly remind them of the social hierarchy, because even though the people of Fairmont, Virginia had sympathy for Hiram and Rachel, they still did not regard slaves as people. Hiram had understood this when he came up with how he had gained custody of Rachel. He had come up with a story in which Rachel's mother had actually been his sister, Elizabeth, who died during childbirth. Rachel's real father, Richard, had died from tuberculosis a few months before Rachel was born, leaving her all alone. Hiram was the only family member remaining that could take charge of Rachel. By hiding his new daughter's history, he kept her safe from that aspect of scrutiny. But what he soon realized after Rachel had started school was that children were cruel things that could spin lies and make his daughter cry.

Rachel strived for excellence with every fiber of her being. She was able to recite her alphabet both forwards and backwards by her third birthday, and was already reading - what scraps of books Hiram could find her- by the time she was to enter first grade. Rachel had grown over the course of her six years, but she was still smaller than most of the area's children. Her long brown locks were braided into pigtails, and she wore her favorite dress that Susan had made her; it was red plaid with black deer around the bottom. Today would be her day. The walk to the small schoolhouse was two miles, but Hiram had decided that today would be a special day for his little girl. He brought out the carriage and harnessed his bay mare to it. This would mark the first time Rachel had rode in the white carriage, and she was ecstatic. New things stirred an old yearning in the pit of Rachel's stomach that craved to learn more about the world around her, and so she was unable to contain her excitement at the horse and buggy. Both Hiram and Susan accompanied the small girl to her schoolhouse, praying to God that the other children would be kind.

After saying a tearful farewell to her father and nanny, Rachel made her way into the building. She almost hesitated at the door, but pushed forward in that very moment. Organized desks and a blackboard greeted her, as did the bustle of small children. She looked around the room with doe eyes, trying to take everything in. A Spanish girl sat in a chair towards the back with a blonde-haired girl that had a sweet face. Next to them were three boys: one had floppy blonde hair and an odd mouth, the other had a shaved head and wickedness about him, while the last looked like an oversized puppy, or maybe even a small pony. Rachel studied her classmates before the Spanish girl caught her staring and stuck out her tongue. This earned a small giggle from her blonde counterpart and Rachel's optimism about the day fled. It was going to be like the last time she had tried to make friends.

"You okay?"

Rachel hadn't even noticed the pretty blonde girl walk up to her until she was suddenly inches away. Rachel hadn't even seen this new girl when she had first walked into the classroom, and wondered how on earth had she missed her, The girl that stood before her had soft hazel eyes and a sweet smile, almost like the other blonde, but this new girl seemed more levelheaded. She wore a dress made of expensive material, and had ribbons in her curled hair, and Rachel thought that maybe she was dreaming. She tried to pinch herself awake. No, not a dream.

"Hello?"

"Oh uh, hi." It took a second for her to regain the drained confidence, but now Rachel grasped on to it. Maybe she would make a friend. The other girl stuck out a hand, and grinned at Rachel.

"I'm Quinn Fabray."

"I'm Rachel Berry."


	2. Poor Rosy

Quinn's daddy owned a large plantation, and by default owned a lot of slaves. Rachel wasn't sure if this made Quinn a bad person, because her new friend thought slavery was okay. But Rachel turned a deaf ear when Quinn told stories about how the slaves broke something and their punishments, or how she got to pick her own personal servant on her tenth birthday. Where Rachel stopped talking to Quinn, the little Spanish girl began. Her name was Santana Lopez, and just like Quinn she lived on a plantation. Their fathers had done business together before the girls were born, but only recently had the Lopez family moved to Fairmont. The two girls had been growing closer over the past few weeks, and especially even more so now that they went to school together. Rachel wasn't too keen on this relationship. She had discovered early on that girls like Santana Lopez were mean and thought everyone around them should feel bad about themselves, but it only made Rachel feel sorry for her.

As Quinn and Santana grew closer, Rachel was once again left behind. She was the weird girl no one talked to. At first she had thought it was because unlike the other girls she didn't have pretty dresses or a big house with nice things, but neither did Brittany. This confused Rachel, because Santana had made it her sole goal to terrorize her whereas she coddled Brittany. Brittany was a sweet tempered girl with big blue eyes and a funny way of talking. She spoke broken English with words Rachel had never heard; Brittany called it her parents' language and Mr. Taylor called it Dutch. Brittany wasn't allowed to speak it inside the schoolhouse and so Santana often times spoke for her. Rachel felt that her and Brittany could have been friends if Santana didn't make a hissing sound every time Rachel tried to talk to the blonde.

Rachel could talk to a brown-headed boy that had to sit in a special chair though. His name was Artie Abrams and he knew a lot about things that didn't matter. Rachel liked that because when Artie said there were animals bigger than Santana's house in the ocean, she felt less lonely. But not always could Artie cheer Rachel up.

"My daddy won't let the slaves sing." Quinn was smirking at Santana as she tried to beat her friend at their little game of who had more money. The game though had a taken a turn to find out who had the best father. Rachel had caught the tail end of the conversation as they girls walked past her, and her ears were suddenly hot. It had been two years since her friendship with Quinn had unraveled, and now at nine years old she tried to understand what had turned the pretty blonde so mean.

"That isn't nice, Quinn."

Santana whipped around, and Rachel swore she heard the girl crack like lightning. The snarl was already pulling the girl's lips back, but before she could spit venom, Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's arm and tugged her. She whispered something into the other girl's ear and Santana took a step back towards Brittany, her attention was diverted but her body remained aggressive. Rachel was Quinn's problem, and Quinn wasn't going to let Rachel try and call her out. Santana had warned Quinn about Rachel's upbringing. It had been towards the beginning of 2nd grade by the swings, the year that Quinn had decided Rachel was no good.

"Q you have to stop hanging out with that weird girl."

"She really isn't that bad, Santana. Yeah, she can be a little crazy but she means well." Quinn swung her legs out, wishing she could fly far away from here. She liked talking to Rachel. She was sweet and had pretty eyes like Brittany, but Quinn looked forward to seeing Rachel everyday. It was a different kind of wanting to be with Rachel then it was with Santana and Brittany. She kept her secrets away from the twosome, but she wanted to tell Rachel everything. Sometimes Quinn wished that Santana had never moved to Fairmont. Secretly, Santana wished the same.

"Quinn stop it. You know the man she lives with isn't even her father, right? He's her uncle. She's an orphan. She lives in a shack! And they only have one nursemaid, and she's like Rachel's mom! It's gross. You can't be friends with her." Santana had jumped out of her swing and was now standing in front of Quinn who had stopped swinging. The two girls stared at each other before Quinn sprung up.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Lopez. It doesn't matter about Rachel's home life, she's my friend."

But Quinn did stop hanging out with Rachel. She stopped talking to Rachel. She stopped being friends with Rachel. There had been other children that Quinn didn't care about to acknowledge that could become Rachel's friends, but as she got older she realized they wouldn't be her friends. There was only one boy that talked to her, but Quinn never said sorry. She never explained to the doe-eyed seven year old as to why she stopped talking to her. Instead, Quinn had focused on schoolwork and becoming the prettiest girl in the class. As a nine-year-old Southern girl she took great pride in her appearance, and her mother had already groomed her older sister into being a Southern Belle, and Quinn was next.

"You know what else isn't nice? Your smell. Go home, Rachel. Oh wait, a barn isn't a home."

Tears sprang into Rachel's eyes as Quinn's mouth pulled back like Santana's. It had been the first time Rachel had allowed herself to cry in front of her tormenters. Quinn wasn't supposed to be mean. Rachel bit her lip, her brows furrowing as she tried to understand Quinn's new iciness. She wiped her tears as she stared at Quinn's cold eyes. Where had the angel face gone?

"No, Quinn. You can't talk about people like that. You can't just say mean things!"

"Or what, gnome? Gonna go tell your parents? No, can't do that, can you? In account of the fact that they're six feet under." This earned snickers from Santana, and the boy with the shaved head, Noah. Rachel wished she was six feet under, anywhere but here. Quinn was different this year: she was cold, withheld, and missing. Rachel almost hesitated, but instead surged forward and wrapped her tiny body around a stiff Quinn. She didn't cry, or feel angry in that moment for Quinn's cruel jibes. She felt sadness like when she looked at Santana. Quinn had forgot how to love.

"Goodbye Quinn Fabray." It was whispered into Quinn's shoulder, Rachel wanted it to seep into the blonde's body and staple her to the ground. Quinn shoved her off and Rachel fell into the dirt. She looked up at the other girl with hurt written in her eyes. She thought she saw something flit across Quinn's face, maybe sadness or maybe it was just the dust because in the next moment the stone cold mask was placed back. Then Quinn was walking away. Santana turned and gaze a last glare at Rachel, before a sad looking Brittany pulled her away.

Elementary school had been painful for Rachel. She had grown close with Artie, and had also made friends with Sam. Another boy named Kurt had come to the school during 4th grade, and he had made a great best friend, but Rachel missed the first girl that had been nice to her. Quinn made it a point to tear Rachel down with everything she was worth, and Quinn was worth a lot. Starting in 3rd grade on Tuesdays and Thursdays, black ink would be poured on Rachel come rain or shine. Noah had to restrain Kurt when Rachel was about to be inked on the first Tuesday that Kurt was there to witness it. The taunts soon began to be directed at Kurt, but Rachel was still prey to the hungry beasts.

She still secretly watched Quinn from the corner of her eye during school, and sometimes she swore she caught Quinn staring at her. One time Rachel caught Quinn singing as she sat on the foot of the stairs, waiting for her maid to pick her up in the white buggy. It sent goosebumps across Rachel's skin as she picked up the words. It was something pretty, one of the songs from the slaves. It surprised Rachel because she thought Quinn would have been singing a prayer song. Like one from the chapel down the road. Rachel had never went to there before since she was Jewish, but one time she and her father had passed by it while the choir was signing. Rachel sang too, but she did it when she milked the cow, or rode her horse, or when she walked through the woods, or when she thought no one was listening. She had only sung with her father and Susan and they had praised her voice, but they had also told her she was pretty and none of her schoolmates agreed with that. So Rachel had kept it to herself, and let her voice flourish in the shadows while Quinn hid hers behind the other children's at church. Rachel thought Quinn shouldn't hide her voice.

"_Poor Caesar, poor boy;__*_

_Rosy broke my poor heart,_

_Heav'n shall-a be my home._

_I cannot stay in hell one day,_

_Heav'n shall-a be my home;_

_I'll sing and pray my soul away,_

_Heav'n shall-a be my home."_

Rachel liked this song. Sometimes she would sneak to a nearby plantation house where Susan had told her that her niece lived. The girl was named Mercedes, and Rachel liked to talk to her in the field. They sang together, soft sounds weaved through the cotton, and Rachel felt at home with these people. She started whispering the words under her breath, and soon her voice was weaved with Quinn's.

Quinn didn't bother to turn around or stop signing, the only difference was a slight hilt to her voice when Rachel chimed in, but then her voice evened out. Rachel liked singing with Quinn; it was like when they were six and Quinn didn't have ice to her voice. When Quinn sang it was as if she put her thoughts and feelings into it, but instead of talking with words she talked with rasp of her voice and the hitches and hiccups that cut holes in her song. Rachel sat down on the stairs with Quinn, and put her hand over the other girl's, and went silent.

"_I don't know what the people want of me,_

_Heav'n shall-a be my home."_

Rachel decided Quinn was a very lonely girl; lonelier than her.

Poor Rosy – Slave Song of the South

Hi guys, thanks for all of the follows! I hope you enjoy the story.


	3. Dull Scissors

It was her seventeenth birthday when Hiram surprised her with a fixed up black carriage and two suitcases. She had cried all morning. Hiram Berry was a poor farmer, and barely made enough to sow his crops let alone repair a breaking down carriage, but he had for his little girl. She wasn't suppose to have these dreams too big for tiny body, she was suppose to stay in Virginia and marry a nice man that like that Finn Hudson or maybe even the crippled Artie Abrams. However, Rachel was anything but average, and Hiram knew there was no life in the South for his baby girl to be happy so he did the only thing any father without a hidden agenda would do. He was gonna let Rachel follow her dreams.

She should have been married by now with a baby, but instead Rachel was chasing dreams like a cat chases a mouse. She had outsmarted and proven her way in the small town even with hard glares and icy words, and Hiram believed her hardened exterior would help when she took up her singing career. The South was no place for art, but the North held more promise and open heads. Rachel could be another slave the way she was pushed about, but she had a bite. Hiram smiled as he watched her fall to her knees in front of the carriage and cry happiness. She was finally getting out.

A friend of Hiram's from long ago had agreed to help get Rachel and her maid, Susan, safely to New York and Hiram was to meet up with them after he finished his business at the farm. The friend's name was Leroy, who was a free slave that was sired from a white man but born from a black woman. The twosome had grown up together, but had to part ways when Hiram's family moved. Hiram had learned about Leroy's whereabouts a few months ago, and they had been growing close once more, so Hiram felt safe leaving his daughter in his friend's capable hands.

It was bittersweet goodbye as Rachel took the run down house in for the last time. She walked slowly, but with purpose as she ran her fingers over the beaten wood with scratch marks that cataloged her growth. This was her home. Santana could have have her monster of a house but Rachel knew she'd never call it home, just like how she knew Quinn could have all of the men's fancy but never call it love. Quinn. A noise caught itself crawling out of Rachel's throat as she defensively wrapped her arms around her stomach. No, she couldn't think of Quinn today; this was going to be a good day.

Rachel hadn't seen Quinn since they were 12 years old. That's when Quinn left school to be privately tutored in art and music and how to be pretty, while Rachel continued her schooling until she was 15. She hadn't seen Santana since 12 and hadn't seen Brittany since 13. She had however still continued classes with Artie, Sam, and Kurt, and even that Finn boy. They were gone now though. Artie and Kurt were sent away for better schooling and Sam had left with his family to the West, even that no good Noah Puckerman had traveled off somewhere. Finn Hudson was still here though, he really never had much going for him except maybe Quinn. Rachel swallowed hard as she started walking through the house again.

Quinn was gone. She had moved to live with her Aunt and Uncle in South Carolina when she was 16, and that had been the last Rachel had heard about her fair faced angel. No one knew for sure if Quinn had been sent away in punishment or if it was true that she had a suitor in the other state. Rachel didn't like either options, but she knew it was never her place to have concern for Quinn Fabray. Quinn had never talked to Rachel with nice words, not even after she sang the Rosy song. Quinn was cold and bare like the trees in winter and Rachel feared Quinn would never grow leaves to warm her body.

She was standing outside her tiny bedroom leaning against the doorframe caught in memories when she felt Susan's wrinkled hand on her shoulder.

"You ready, baby?"

Rachel was going to leave it all behind. She was going to leave the taunting and the glares and the disappointment and the pain all behind. Rachel jerked her head in a hard yes. Susan gently guided her back through the house, and out the door to the carriage. The suitcases were loaded and her mare was hitched and ready to go. This was it.

"Thank you so much, Papa! I promise I will make you proud." Rachel whispered in voice roughed by emotion as she hugged her father. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted the small girl up onto her tiptoes.

"You already have." He whispered back, and tears brimmed in his daughter's eyes as she pulled back. "Go on now, you best get going if you want to reach a safe place before night. I'll meet you shortly."

Rachel smiled and nodded, "I love you." Then she was being helped into the carriage by Leroy, and followed by Susan.

Hiram waved as Leroy clucked to the horse to start the journey. "I love you too, my little star!" He replied, earning a blown kiss from a crying Rachel. She was going somewhere, she was going to be something, she was going to have everything her mother couldn't. Hiram smiled.

The carriage was cutting through town to get to the right road, and Rachel watched outside her window at all the people she was finally escaping. They would all be stuck here, just like she could have been. Her eyes lit up just thinking of the crowds that awaited her in New York, but she was yanked out of her daydreams by wisps of blonde hair. She couldn't stop the noise in her throat from burbling up this time.

Rachel squinted her eyes to get a better look at the flitting pale figure. She was wearing a white dress with a soft green lace that matched her eyes while she stared at the white carriage. Her eyes were wide as saucer-pans, and her hand nervously wringed her left wrist as she stared. Regret waited behind the closed door of the carriage and it was staring back with soft doe eyes at her. Rachel felt like she was drowning as studied the figure that was so close but too far away. She felt the wall of bricks thickening, and the invisible tether pull on her finger as the carriage slowly started to move again.

Rachel hadn't cleverly cut all the strings that held her in place


End file.
